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Book # 12 page 045.
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First, thank God for allowing me to write and transmit these words, thank you for letting me take this pen. On the 26th of this year I saw death, but it was you who gave me another chance. I suffered a traffic accident when I was moving from the city of Medellín to the city of Cúcuta. The private vehicle hit a fuel transport vehicle, I was injured in my left arm, I was transferred to a hospital where I was treated by the medical staff of said assistance center. What a great pain I felt at that time, there began this hard and degrading journey for me as a migrant citizen; (… Yackson continues his story with the return to Venezuela on the way to Cúcuta) 1 my two companions who were brothers were still waiting for me to go out to take the road to the Colombian-Venezuelan border, we boarded another vehicle that the driver we had hired had coordinated First, we moved to Bucaramanga to a hotel, the next day another vehicle would take us to Cúcuta, and in the afternoon we were in the city of Pamplona where the driver left us abandoned with the cold that touched our bones, thinking how we were going to get out of there with no money since we had spent it all.

We spent the night out in the cold, walking from Pamplona to Cúcuta a journey that I do not wish for anyone, many stories told by Venezuelan brothers, good and bad, I felt the contempt of many people, even my own wife and mother-in-law, seeing that she couldn’t find work for family support, on Colombian soil, what sadness I feel at this moment and the thought that will happen tomorrow when we leave this refuge that gave us the opportunity to eat and drink; that will come when we leave for the border, the stories they tell us are not very encouraging. Go through quarantine hungry, without money, without our families, what will become of us.

Yackson Ramírez, Venezuelan migrant.

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